Loyalty For Life
by His Lil' Half-Blood Princess
Summary: Dumbledore asks Snape to murder him. Snape agrees willingly on the outside, but on the inside, he's filled with pain and regret. Warning: Drinking. One-Shot


**A/N: I haven't updated or published anything in FOREVER, yes, I know. But here are my excuses: Final Exams are next week and I need to study; My laptop broke; I've been borrowing my mom's laptop and reading ALL of SeverusSnape19's stories, which are AMAZING! (good Snape torture fics were so hard to find, it was like I struck gold when I discovered her stories!) So as you see, there were a few road blocks, but I'm back again! OK, before I begin, here's somethings you might notice: **_This _**is a thought. **_**This **_**is another thought, sorta like and angel-devil thing, if you know what I mean. **_**This **_**is more devil. And I know that Dark Marks burn only the specific Death Eaters, the ones Voldemort wants, feel the burn but I changed it for this story. Sorry if this author's note and story are too long. This One-Shot's dedicated to two people: to SeverusSnape19 to being a true inspiration, and to whitehound for helping me correct my stories (she's like, a Harry Potter Encyclopedia, no lie!) Ok, here we go, enjoy! (*whispers* oh, and could ja review? Thanks.)**

Snape slammed the can back on the table. He rubbed his neck and looked at the clock. It was almost midnight. He stared at the can of firewhisky on the coffee table in his sitting room. _What am I doing? _he thought. He didn't drink a lot of alcohol, and when he did, it was usually something light, like wine. In fact, he had his first real glass of alcohol last year, a few days before he was put on probation. The rest of the time, it would just be at toasts. He had promised himself that he would never get drunk, not since his father would get drunk all the time.

But it was like he was reliving it. His father would sit in the armchair in the sitting room at night with about ten bottles and cans of vodka and whisky and he would drink, dropping the empty containers on to the floor. This was a bit different, being that this was a different chair, and he had only three large cans, and they were firewhisky, and he put the empty containers on to the table. It was also different because he wasn't drunk, and if he was, he didn't have a son to beat up the next morning. . . .

Wormtail was in the other room, and Snape didn't know what he was doing. For all Snape cared, Wormtail could be planning to murder him. Snape was too depressed, memories, awful memories, were flashing throughout his mind. And what could make things worse, his Mark was burning over and over and it _hurt_! But the Dark Lord had instructed that the next time the Mark burned, he and a few others were not allowed to attend meetings. Others would have been worried, but Snape didn't mind much.

He felt so immature, why was he still thinking about Lily and Potter and all the others? Why was he still thinking of when he got the Mark and of Lily and of his dad hurting him? What kind of person thought about things that happened so long ago, like Lily and Potter's wedding and when he first met Harry?

He put down the second can, now empty, and he felt a bit drowsy. His mind was spinning. His mouth was dry and he couldn't think straight . . . well, sort of, he could think, but it was like random thoughts were doing summer saults all over his train of thought. _If this is bad, _he thought, _what does being drunk feel like? _He knew he would never get drunk, and he rarely drank, and he hated thinking about all the drinks in the world, like beer, and wine, and vodka, and whisky, and firewhisky, and butterbeer, and . . . and . . .

_Crash!_

Snape turned around the see his window shattered. He looked down at the floor, on top of the shattered glass was an owl, lying on the floor, exhausted. Snape put down the third can he was opening and stood up. He pointed his wand at the window and said, _"Reparo!" _and it fixed together, so he focused his attention on the owl.

The owl had gotten up and was already poking Snape rapidly on the shoulder. Snape looked at it and noticed it had a letter in it's mouth. Snape took it from the owl and it flew and sat on the table, pecking at the empty cans, spilling the third all over the carpet. "Are you serious?" he shouted at it. "I was going to drink that!" He felt the same fury his father must of felt when Snape had poured every vodka down the drain when he was 9.

Snape looked at the letter. It was on a crumpled piece of paper that was folded sloppily, which on one side was a sign that read: COME TO THE THREE BROOMSTICKS FOR OUR SPECIAL OFFER ON BUTTERBEER, ONE CUP, ONE KNUT! LIMITED TIME ONLY!

Snape looked at the sign, it was printed in bold red ink, so he turned it over to find the real letter, which read in a sloppy version of Dumbledore's handwriting: _Severus, I need you at my office immediately. Password is 'Charms'. I was looking______

And the ink trailed off the paper. Snape stowed the letter in his robes and grabbed his traveling cloak. _What could be so urgent? _he thought, as he picked up the three empty cans. He made sure Wormtail was locked away in his room and threw the cans out. He opened the backdoor and went right outside of his house, the owl flying past him, and he Apparated into Hogsmeade.

He was right in front of the Three Broomsticks and he saw the same ad that was on the back of Dumbledore's letter on the window. _I'm guessing he grabbed the first piece of paper to write that letter,_ Snape thought as he walked through Hogsmeade. It was deserted, except for a few people, taking outside the pub, one of them Madame Rosmerta. He thought about stopping for a drink, _(What is wrong with me?)_ but then remembered it was urgent. He was at the entrance to the Hogwarts grounds, when he saw what looked like staggered footseteps in the mud. Some were dragged, others were splattered, only a few were normal. Snape rushed his pace.

He made it to the entrance of the castle, but the doors were already open. He went through them, shut them, locked them and hurried to Dumbledore's office. "Charms." he spat and the gargoyle let him pass. He entered the office to find Dumbledore was collapsed on to his chair. "What the-?"

There was a potion on the desk, well, it was half-made, and a book opened to the page with the ingredients. The ingredients were beside it. There was a book of curses and it was opened to a page, There was a ring beside it, with the Sword of Gryffindor stabbed inside it. Then Snape realized it; The ring carried a curse.

Snape looked in the book, and he saw Dumbledore's straggly handwriting had crossed off everything he had already put into it. Putting he drowsy feelings from drinking aside, he started to work. Snape grabbed the rest on the ingredients and finished the Potion. Dumbledore had positioned himself terribly on the chair, but at least he was sitting up. His eyes were closing. Snape grabbed the Potion and his wand and walked over to him.

"Headmaster?" he said quietly. Dumbledore didn't respond. "Headmaster, I'm going to need you to drink this. Please sit up." But Dumbledore didn't move a muscle. Snape felt terror well up in his chest, the same feeling he felt when Lily . . . died. He quickly slipped his arm under Dumbledore's. He boosted him up, so he was sitting almost upright. "Please Headmaster, just open your mouth so I can give you the potion. It's thick, sir, you need to be able to swallow it. Please." He waited a minute, tempted to pry Dumbledore's mouth open, but then slowly, his mouth opened and Snape sighed with relief. He was still alive. _But still alive means I thought he was . . . gone._ He put the goblet to Dumbledore's lips and watched as the gold potion went down his throat. He stopped so Dumbledore could swallow and continued. As he was doing this, he had his wand pointed at the Headmaster's wrist and was muttering a spell under his breath. _Please, please, please, don't die, don't die. _he thought. But drowsiness over came his thoughts and he paid more attention to his work. The last serving of potion was left in the goblet. Dumbledore swallowed and Snape poured the last amount down his throat, putting the goblet on the table.

He continued to mutter to spell, watching Dumbledore slowly regain his breathing, so it became steady. He looked at the ring on the table. _Where on earth did he get that ring? Then again, with Dumbledore, you never know. _He looked back at the Headmaster, stopped muttering the counter curse and waited. That was all he could do now, if it had been a bit earlier that he had come he may have been able to do a little more. Finally, Dumbledore's eyes fluttered opened and Snape gave a sigh of relief. He was going to be ok . . . for now.

"Why," said Snape, without preamble. "_why_ did you put on that ring? It carries a curse, surely you realized that. Why even touch it?" Snape still felt his heart racing. That had been frightening to say the least.

Dumbledore grimaced.

"I . . . was a fool. Sorely tempted . . ."

"Tempted by what?"

Dumbledore did not answer and Snape knew it was one of those things he was not permitted to know. He hated it when Dumbledore kept things from him, but it wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, and he was used to it.

"It is a miracle you managed to return here!" Snape sounded furious. "That ring carried a curse of extraordinary power, to contain it is all we can hope for; I have trapped the curse in one hand for the time being-"

Dumbledore raised his blackened, useless hand, and examined it with the expression of being shown an interesting curio. _Well, at least I have the other hand, _he thought, trying to keep his spirits up, for the sake of the man next to him.

"You have done very well, Severus. How long do you think I have?"

_How long he has . . . he's going to die? _He looked at the hand and the ring. _That curse won't halt forever. _he admitted to himself. Dumebledore's tone was conversational; he might have been asking for a weather forecast. It was like his life was worthless to him and that he may die tomorrow didn't mean a thing to him. It angered Snape. Dying meant leaving everything, the Order, the war, the Ministry . . . him. He hesitated, and then said, "I cannot tell. Maybe a year. There is no halting such a spell forever. It will spread eventually, it is the sort of curse that strengthens over time."

Dumbledore smiled. The fact that he had less than a year to live seemed of little or no concern to him. Snape felt furious. _He obviously doesn't care about what's going to happen after he dies! _Unless . . . that was a smile of . . . was it pride?

"I am fortunate, extremely fortunate, that I have you, Severus."

"If you had only summoned me a little earlier, I may have been able to do more, buy you more time!" said Snape furiously. He didn't like praise he didn't deserve. He looked down at the broken ring and sword again. "Did you think breaking the ring would break the curse?"

"Something like that . . . I was delirious, no doubt . . ." he said. With an effort, he straightened himself in his chair again. "Well, really this makes matters much more straightforward."

_Matters? _Snape looked utterly perplexed. Dumbledore smiled.

"I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me. His plan to have the poor Malfoy boy murder me."

Snape sat down in he chair across the desk from Dumbledore. He looked as if he wanted to say more on the subject of Dumbledore's cursed hand, but the other held it up in polite refusal to discuss the matter further. Scowling, Snape said, "The Dark Lord does not expect Draco to succeed. This is merely punishment for Lucius's recent failures. Slow torture for Draco's parents, while they watch him fail and pay the price."

"In short, the boy has had a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have," said Dumbledore. "Nw, I should have thought the natural successor to the job once Draco fails, is yourself?"

_That is why, I didn't want to talk about this, Dumbledore! _he thought angrily. He felt drowsy again, and sighed. Dumbledore was waiting for an answer. "That, I think, is the Dark Lord's plan."

"Lord Voldemort foresees a moment in the near future when he will not need a spy at Hogwarts?"

"He believes the school will soon be in his grasp, yes."

"And if it does fall into his grasp," said Dumbledore, almost, it seemed, as an aside. "I have your word that you will do all in your power to protect the students of Hogwarts?"

_Of course! _Snape gave a stiff nod. Why was he keeping all his thoughts to himself? Was it the firewhisky?

Dumbledore smiled. _Thank God I have him, _he thought. "Good. Now then. Your first priority will be to discover what Draco is up to. A frightened teenage boy is a danger to others as well as to himself. Offer him help and guidance, he ought to accept, he likes you-"

"-much less since his father lost favor. Draco blames me, he thinks I have usurped Lucius's position."

"All the same, try. I am concerned less for myself than for accidental victims of whatever schemes might occur to the boy. Ultimately, of course, there is only one thing to be done if we are to save him from Lord Voldemort's wrath.

Snape raised his eyebrows. The only thing _he _personally thought could be done was that Draco carried out the deed. Then again, Dumbledore might have other ideas. His tone was sardonic as he asked, "Are you intending to let him kill you

Dumbledore nearly laughed, but held it inside, for obviously, clever Severus hadn't figured out what this meant, and what he was about to tell him was no laughing matter.

"Certainly not. _You _must kill me."

_You must kill me . . . You must kill me . . . You must kill me _the words repeated over and over in his mind. His eyes widened, his face went white. _You must kill me . . . You must kill me . . . he couldn't have been talking to _me? _Not me! _But there was no one else in the room, except Fawkes the phoenix gnawing on his cuttlebone.

It had to be him. It all added up. It would give Dumbledore a nice, clean death, it would save Draco from becoming a sixteen year old murderer, as he had been, and it would give the Dark Lord the measure of satisfactory needed to keep his mind off punishing Draco. But he didn't want to kill Dumbledore! He didn't want to even hurt him! He wasn't going to do it!

_But you promised to do anything he wanted you to do? Remember, all those years ago, when he bought you out of prison? Remember all he did for you? Why can't you do something for him for a change?_

_**For a change? I've been his personal slave these 15 years! And of course I remember!**_

___So be a man of your word! If you promised to do anything for him, do the anything._

_**This isn't just anything, this everything! I do this, my whole life changes. The few friends I have will be gone, my job will be gone, all I'll have is the Dark Lord! And worst . . . Dumbledore will be gone.**_

___Dumbledore's going to die anyway! Lose your job? So what? The Dark Lord will provide for you, of course! You have to do this. You have to kill him. You have to obey._

_**But-**_

___Or you might as well just return to the Dark right now. And I know you won't want to do that._

Of course, he knew he didn't want to do that.

"Would you like me to do it now?" asked Snape, his voice heavy with irony. "Or would you like a few moments to compose and epitaph?"

"Oh, not quite yet," said Dumbledore, smiling. "I daresay the moment will present itself in due course, Given what has happened tonight," he indicated his withered hand, "we can be sure that it will happen within a year."

One year . . .

"If you don't mind dying," said Snape roughly. "Why not let Draco do it?"

"That boy's soul is not so yet damaged," said Dumbledore. "I would not have it ripped apart on my account."

"And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?"

"You alone know whether it will harm your soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation," said Dumbledore. "I ask this one great favor of you Severus, because death is coming for me as surely as the Chudley Cannons will finish bottom of this year's league. I confess I should prefer a quick, painless exit to the protracted and messy affair it will be if, for instance, Greyback is involved- I hear Voldemort has recruited him?" Snape nodded. "Or dear Bellatrix, who likes to play with her food before she eats it?"

His tone was light, but his blue eyes pierced Snape as though the soul they discussed was visible to him. Now, Snape made the hardest choice he would ever make. Kill him or don't kill him. Obey him or disobey him. Help him or hurt him. He couldn't imagine Bellatrix torturing Albus Dumbledore to death, it would be too painful. But what if it happened like that? What if Bellatrix drove him mad, then killed him? What if Greyback made him a werewolf, then killed him. No, that was too horrible. He had to do it. He just had to.

At last Snape have another curt nod.

Dumbledore seemed satisfied.

"Thank you, Severus . . ."

Snape nodded again and avoided Dumbledore's gaze. he looked as though no happiness would ever come to him again, no smile ever cross his lips. He was filled with anger, fury, sadness, misery, and even worry . . . and could it be fright? He was rarely scared of things. This wasn't normal.

Dumbledore pointed his wand at his desk and made the mess disappear. Snape was looking at his arm, which was burning worse and worse. Finally, it hurt too much, he grabbed his arm and pressured it. It didn't help, it never did. It continued to hurt until Snape finally groaned. Dumbledore looked up at him. "What's the matter, Severus?" he asked. His tone seemed as though he wanted to add the word "now" between "matter" and "Severus".

Snape looked at him angrily. "Nothing." he said cooly, and continued to rub it. _Kill me, this is awful. What am I, a mass murderer? First Potter, then Lily and now Dumbledore!_

Dumbledore rose an eyebrow and then said, "You know, Severus, I can tell that there is something wrong."

"Maybe there is, and if there is, I obviously don't want you to know what it is!" He snapped. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. Half an hour ago, he was all polite and courteous and now he was snapping at everything.

"And what if I wish to know?"

"I think I have earned to right to keep certain things to myself, now that I have to kill you!"

There was a silence. It seemed awkward to Dumbledore, he was usually the one keeping things from Snape, not the other way around. But it was peace for Snape. He hated sharing things, even this, his Mark burning, something Dumbledore knew happened, he didn't want to share. He had always shared things with Dumbledore, but now, he just felt so angry, and upset. He continued to rub it, and thought to himself, _What have I gotten myself into now? I don't even know how I did this, I was so drowsy!_

Dumbledore turned around and walked to the back of his office and took out a bottle of blood red wine. He sat down at his desk and conjured two large glasses out of thin air. With his good hand, he poured the wine into one glass, and then he looked at Snape. "Would you care for some?"

Snape stared at the wine. The drowsy feeling was fading away, but the drowsier he got, the less he was able to think, and he knew that. It wouldn't be wise to get near drunkenness if Dumbledore was in this condition. He had just recovered from a curse that could have killed him. But, he hated thinking right now and he hated Dumbledore as well. _I can't get drunk, that just shows . . . him that I want to copy him! _"Fine," he said, without knowing. He felt like he had no self-control. He wasn't thirsty, he didn't want to get drunk. But Dumbledore poured some, and Snape took a gulp and put it down. He sputtered.

"What?" said Dumbledore again. Snape looked at him.

"Nothing."

"You don't drink?"

"Yes, I do." Snape said.

"You never have drank whenever I've seen you. You never come to the pub with Minerva and I. Last year you refused to drink anything with alcohol in it. Why now?"

"I've always drank. I'm just not social." he sneered. "You ought to know that by now."

"Really? But at the feast a few years ago, when we toasted Cedric Diggory, you barely even took a sip."

Snape stared at him. "Why do you care? And why are you staring at what my lips were doing instead of paying attention to that speech you were giving?"

Dumbledore had to smile. Then he cleared his throat and became serious again. "Because if you have a serious reason for not drinking, then maybe I could-"

"My dad used to drink, all right!" Snape burst. Dumbledore nearly jumped. "He used to get drunk all the time, and then he would hit me, and I don't want to be like that! And now I'm staying 'round with Death Eaters again, and I'm thinking about all the things that have happened since the Dark Lord rose back to power, and now I have to kill you, and my Mark is burning all time, and I have no idea if Wormtail's destroyed my house yet!" He breathed heavily at the end of this speech, and Dumbledore was staring at him. How could one person bottle up all that emotion?

"I had no idea." he said, inisantly. Snape gave an angry sigh.

"Of course you didn't, you stupid old man!" Snape shouted. "You go into other people's lives and try to find all the imperfections and try to fix them when you can't! Nobody can! I've got things on my mind, many more things than this, and it's making me go mad! You want to know everything? You want to help me? Well, it's not going to work, because I've tried everything, not even using Occulemency on myself can block those things out of my head!"

"I know exactly how you feel, Severus."

_That's it! _Snape was furious now. "You know exactly how I feel? You know exactly how it feels? _Well, you don't! _Stop convincing yourself that you know everything there is to know!"

"Yes, I do know. You're feeling confused and angry and upset and you'd feel extremely happy if I killed you right now."

Snape scowled. That was exactly how he felt, but he didn't want to tell. "You're just so . . . I just . . . God damn it, I hate you!"

Though they were stupid, juevenille words, they pierced Dumbledore's heart. Snape was so angry right now. He didn't want to murder, but didn't he realize that hate could murder? It could murder souls. Dumbledore looked at him straight in the eye, and Snape didn't look away. He stared at him, furiously. "Severus . . ." Dumbledore said in a warning tone.

"What?" he snapped.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "You know what."

"No, I don't." said Snape.

"You're a clever man, you should know."

"I don't."

"Severus . . ."

"What do you want now?"

"Your tone," he said.

Snape stood up. "I am _not _a child. You don't have to warn me about my tone!"

"Yes, but I am your employer. I've been good enough to give you the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. Who you like to go back to teaching Potions?"

Snape opened his mouth to protest, then shut it. "No." he said, coldly.

"I thought so. I hate to be strict with you, Severus, I don't consider you my servant, as you constantly refer to yourself as. I consider you my friend. After all you have done for me, and now agreeing to kill me, how could I ever consider you such a thing? I doubt a man has ever shown such loyalty."

Snape looked up at Dumbledore.

"I give you loyalty because you gave me back my life."


End file.
